Never Be Alone
by androidilenya
Summary: It's totally not weird that Skye's had her eye on a certain biochemist for awhile, and it's definitely not because she's checking her out. Or anything. Nope. She just thinks she's really pretty when she smiles. That's all. (Skye/Simmons)


**Begins post-whatever episode it was where Simmons jumped out a plane (...uh. 1x06 FZZT, wasn't it?).**

* * *

"You're alive."

"So I've been told."

"No––you're _alive_."

"…yes." Jemma shifted, visibly uncomfortable.

"Do you have any _idea_––" Skye started, and Jemma shook her head vehemently, cutting her off.

"Look, I already got the whole talk from Coulson. Let's just move on and––and pretend this never happened, hm?" She clenched her hands around the hem of her shirt, nails digging into the cloth, and looked away, hating the _concern_ in Skye's face and the prickling flush that was spreading across her own. Yes, she had jumped out of a plane. Yes, she had nearly died. And yes, she was _fully aware _that it had been an incredibly stupid thing to do, no matter how much it had seemed the _only_ thing to do in the heat of the moment.

"I was terrified," Skye replied with open honesty. She reached up and grabbed Jemma's shoulders, forcing her to turn to face her. "Don't you _ever_ do that again. Or I might have to find a way to bring you back specifically to kill you again for making me so goddamn _scared_."

Jemma swallowed nervously. "Did you––did you really––" She couldn't finish. The full force of it all hadn't hit her yet––her legs had been shaking when Ward finally deposited her back on the plane (he had kept an arm on her the entire time they were waiting for Coulson to pick them up, as though making sure she wouldn't fall again), and she had barely been able to speak to _anyone_ since without feeling a gut-wrenching mixture of anxiety and guilt.

_What did you think it would fix, jumping like that?_

"Of course I cared." There was an odd tenderness in Skye's eyes, and when she reached up again it was to brush a stray strand of hair out of Jemma's face. "If you had died, I would've _never_ forgiven you."

She froze, mouth half-open, and when she spoke again it was with no small measure of disbelief: "Y–you––"

"_Care_ about you, idiot, yes." And Skye stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her, tightly, and for the second time that day Jemma found herself reflecting on how hard Skye hugged, like every time was the last time, like Jemma was the only solid thing in the room.

It was oddly nice, she reflected, burying her face in Skye's shoulder and inhaling that warm, somehow familiar scent and feeling some of the anxiety drain away.

* * *

"So you see, the cellular membrane in the first is weakened by the solution, which allows a heightened level of transfer between the two, and––"

"And that _proves_ your hypothesis!" Skye interrupted, eyes shining. "I _get_ it!"

Jemma grinned. "You do!"

From across the room, Fitz took his eyes off of the dismembered pile of circuits and wires in front of him long enough to glare at them. "Can you keep it down, perhaps?"

"Sorry." Jemma flashed Skye a smile, lowering her voice: "But you _do_ see, don't you. And it's positively _fascinating_, isn't it?"

Skye did not tell her that she was so unbearably _cute_ when she was getting all excited about science, did not tell her that every time they talked about the things the biochemist loved, Skye had a hard time focusing on anything other than the brightness in her eyes, the ring in her voice. What she did say was, "You know, this is my favorite part of the day."

"Really?"

"Sure. After my _wonderful_ S.O. is through with me, when we don't have some bizarre, life-threatening thing going on––speaking of _which_."

"If this is about the incident in the Hub––"

"It wasn't, but speaking of _which_, how did Melinda take the whole shooting-a-superior-officer-in-the-chest thing? You didn't get in too much trouble, I hope.

Jemma shook her head, suddenly serious. "Oh, no, she took it rather well––I mean, I think. It's hard to tell with her, right?"

"Yeah." Skye drew herself up, adopted her best deadpan: "I'm Agent May and I will not react with any emotion no matter _what_ you may say to me. Also I'm a ninja."

Jemma laughed, and Skye grinned––she _loved_ doing that, making her grin like that, let loose for a couple of seconds.

_You look so pretty when you smile_, she didn't say, but wanted to. And that, really, was her favorite part of any day: that moment when Jemma smiled at her, bright and cheerful and absolutely perfect.

* * *

"It's not working."

"Calm down, Jemma, it's nothing to get upset about––" Skye hesitated, then reached up and rested her hand between Jemma's shoulderblades. It took a few seconds for her to realize that she had used the biochemist's first name––she'd always referred to her mentally as Jemma, but never aloud (it seemed _odd_, somehow, since everyone else called her Simmons), but Jemma didn't react to that; she was too busy worrying about everything else.

"But it _is_, don't you see, if I'm not able to do something this _simple_ then what'll I do if––if something big happens––" _Again_, she did not say, _like the last time_, but Skye heard it in her voice despite that, heard the fear.

"It can't be that hard." She moved to the other side of the lab table, surveying the mass of equipment that Jemma had spread out across the lab. She wasn't entirely sure what this experiment was, only that it was a simple, routine one (according to Jemma, meaning it was well past Skye's education level) and something had gone wrong––and Jemma couldn't figure out what, and she was _scared_.

_Of course she'd be scared, what did you expect after––after what happened the last time she thought she couldn't find a solution?_

"Jemma," she said again, putting a bit more emphasis on it, and when she looked up she offered her a smile that she hoped came off as comforting; she wasn't very good at the whole _making people better_ thing. "It'll be fine. Deep breath."

Jemma took a shuddering gulp of air, then let it out. "Right. Fine."

"This is an easy thing, the answer is right there, and even if it isn't it _doesn't matter_, see? Nothing depends on this, right?" It wasn't just about that, she _knew_ that, but this was hard and she didn't know what she was supposed to be saying to her.

"But if I––" Jemma broke off, swallowed. "If I can't do something easy like this, when another big thing happens and I _can't_ do it––what if it isn't my life, what if it's Agent May's or Coulson's or _yours––"_

Skye had run out of things to say; she didn't think that any of the words spinning through her head would do much more than make Jemma more upset (_it never mattered, you're the one that matters, right here and now, let the future burn for all I care_) so she gave up and grabbed Jemma's shirt collar and pulled her across the table. Jemma let out a strangled yelp that was immediately muffled by Skye's lips on hers.

She smiled against Jemma's lips and felt her make a soft sound, fingers tightening around Skye's shirt sleeve as she leaned into it, still awkwardly spread out across half the equipment on the lab table but clearly thoroughly enjoying this.

Skye had wanted to do that for _so long_.

And if this didn't help, then Skye wasn't sure what would.

"Better?" she asked, pulling away, and Jemma stared at her with wide eyes, lips trembling.

_Oh, shit, did I break her?_

"…Jemma?"

"I think…" She took a deep breath and pulled away, eyes alight. "I think I've figured out what the problem is."

It took a few seconds for Skye to remember that Jemma was probably talking about her experiment, and a few seconds more to summon a sort of dazed smile. "Good for you."

Jemma turned towards her equipment, hands fluttering over the controls. She glanced back at Skye, a flush spreading across her cheeks, and added, "Maybe after I'm done, you could… ah––do that again?"

"It'd be my pleasure," Skye replied, grin widening.


End file.
